


Day 5: Nerd!Santana And Popular!Rachel

by thedeadflag



Series: Pezberry Week 2016 [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Cosplay, F/F, Fluff, Nerd Santana, Popular Rachel, Popular/Nerd trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 01:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7293670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel is dragged by her friend Kurt to a local convention to be his pack mule for the day, a bit of a shift in roles given her elevated social status. Out of her element, Rachel wanders the con and gets caught in a crowd, only to have a certain Umbra Witch come to her aid</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 5: Nerd!Santana And Popular!Rachel

“Kurt, did you really have to pick today of all days to call in the favor?” Rachel groused, feeling a little overwhelmed among the thick crowd of con-goers. She was definitely out of her element within the costumed masses, having learned very quickly that comic book and anime fans were a different brand of people than, say, Broadway and musical theatre fanatics like herself, or the sports fanatics she was often surrounded by as the right hand to the Head Cheerio. A quick glance around most of the con-goers and she could easily imagine that not too many were very popular in high school. It definitely wasn't Rachel's world.

“I told you on the way here, this is a great place for me to network and learn tools of the trade. These people create actual outfits from drawings, much like I do...I’m not arrogant enough to believe I have nothing left to learn.” Kurt clarified, which made sense, but why he needed her present at his con-going adventure was a mystery.

Sure, she appreciated that he’d decked her out in a pretty Sailor Jupiter costume of his own making, a long flowy green dress based around some character designs of an outfit of hers from the show, but it was still a culture shock. Heck, she’d maybe only seen a handful of episodes of that show, and was a little worried about being asked any questions about her costume. Rachel could admit she was far out of her depth.

“And you need me here, why?” She inquired, earning a sly smirk from her friend.

“I’m going to need someone to carry the material and merchandise I buy. Finn wasn’t available, so you’ll do nicely.” Kurt explained with a laugh, and Rachel could only imagine she had a very long day ahead of her.

Sure, Kurt had earned the favor fair and square, but Rachel felt it was also fair to not be so happy about squaring up with him. “So I’m going to be your shadow all day?”

“I’m smart, not cruel. I’ll pick up what I need a half hour before I leave, but I’ll be spending the afternoon here. You can follow me around, or branch off on your own if you feel like it. There’s certainly a lot to see and do, I wouldn’t blame you.” Kurt reasoned, making her favour a little less burdensome, which she was immensely thankful for. “Oooh! I know her! I’ll be back in a minute.”

Kurt rushed off towards a rather colourful looking individual, leaving her all alone in the bustling crowd. A minute later, she could no longer see Kurt in the general vicinity.

Rachel let out a sigh and resigned herself to a difficult day among a foreign culture.

Not that her height was much of an issue, but the crowd largely towered over her and made it a little difficult to see what all was nearby. However, after a minute of peering around, she spotted a sign pointing towards a marketplace, which seemed a nice enough place to start.

The first hour was relatively easy-going. From what she’d overheard, there was some major panel happening that was more or less the highlight of the con, which made the marketplace a relative ghost town in comparison, Rachel actually having more than a foot or two around her at all times.

However, once she’d purchased a snack, two rather beautiful prints, and a comic that Brittany had asked her to grab up for her, there wasn’t anything left to buy so she made her way back to her car, not wanting to haul everything around all day.

Except, the panel finished up and there was a sudden swarm of con-goers. And then perhaps she got lost trying to escape the frenzy and found herself in an unfamiliar hallway. And maybe she followed a small crowd in the direction they were heading, unsure which she’d come from to begin with.

But then another crowd came in pushing into their lane of sorts, and Rachel found herself being squeezed against a wall, clutching her purchases and hoping the rush would clear out soon enough and that another event would start up soon.

“Little one, are you alright?” Rachel heard coo out from her left, head on a swivel to see if the voice was addressing her.

Now, Rachel Berry was no stranger to beautiful women; she was a cheerleader on a squad that at times seemed genetically modified to be the most beautiful in the country. She certainly wouldn’t such a scheme past Coach Sue, who was known to do absurd and illegal things to gain an advantage. Rachel was also not a prude, having showered naked with those same fellow cheerleaders, and she could appreciate the beauty and, for some, sensuality of the girls.

But the beauty before her was awe-inspiring, and had Rachel’s knees shaking in a twisted sort of sexual intimidation, not surprised at all over how dry her mouth immediately went.

“I’m lost.” Rachel managed to squeak out, earning a melodic laugh from the other girl, a laugh that Rachel swore she’d heard before, but couldn’t place.

“You don’t say. The world is dark and full of terrors, you know. No place to be alone.” The stranger stated with a smirk that was all too teasing for her comfort. Still, the girl offered a hand, and it seemed much more appropriate to take the help of someone who seemed more seasoned to such environments. “You stay with me, and I promise you’ll end up in one piece and away from here. Got it?”

Rachel took the gloved hand, grimacing a little at the white leather, but pleasantly surprised at how swiftly and smoothly her saviour weaved them through the crowd, eventually finding their way upstairs and out onto the rooftop. It was almost entirely empty, but clearly had been used recently for some sort of banquet, given the tables and chairs set up.

“Thank you, I really appreciate the help. I’m a little out of my element here.” Rachel admitted sheepishly, though the stranger didn’t seem annoyed or off put at all. In fact, she just seemed amused.

“I suppose sometimes even Sailor Jupiter, the ‘Guardian of Protection’, can need protecting.” The girl teased, gently slipping her hand from Rachel’s and moving to the guard rail looking over the facility and the green area nearby. “On first glance I actually thought you were an angel, but then I looked closer...”

Rachel raised her eyebrow pre-emptively, unsure where the girl was going with her words, and not liking the direction. Being compared to an angel was sweet. Having it revoked? Not so much.

“...and you were much too _bewitching_ , kitten.”

Rachel felt herself blush hard, and bit her lip as a wave of uncertainty and flattery filled her. Girls didn’t tend to compliment other girls like that, and Rachel found herself flustered for once, not sure how to respond.

“Who...who _are_ you, anyways?” Rachel blurted out, stumbling over her words in her rush to do something.

The other girl’s eyes widened at her accidentally aggressive tone, though the shock wore off quickly, and soon, that coolly amused and sensual expression had returned. “Now, that's no way to talk to a lady. Don’t pretend you weren’t delighted.”

Rachel stomped her foot in annoyance, because that was beside the point. “Maybe, but...well, I was just trying to be nice.”

“And I wasn’t? Call it a woman’s intuition, but is this the first time you’ve been hit on by someone like me?” The girl asked, turning her back to the railing and leaning back against it, the pose displaying her chest rather prominently in the skin-tight costume, the gold medallion halfway covering her cleavage shining in the sunlight.

“A...a lesbian?” Rachel managed to ask, unsure what the stranger was getting at with the conversation outside of continuously embarrassing her and keeping her flustered.

“A witch, kitten. Oh, but I understand the confusion. I spent five hundred years not knowing who I was. I only found out the truth recently.” The girl stated, cluing Rachel into the fact that whoever the girl was, she was treating their conversation like a performance, entirely in character.

It was interesting, and provided a sense of familiarity; Rachel, after all, knew acting. She understood it. She loved it. The relief that realization brought her settled her nerves and had her stepping closer.

“And what is your name, witch?” Rachel asked curiously, taking a moment to figure out if she should fall in beside the girl and mimic her pose, or perhaps just take up space directly in front of her.

“Bayonetta. That seems to be what people call me these days, at least.” The girl answered with a bored wave of her hand, the gesture practically making Rachel’s decision for her.

Mind made up, she stepped right in front of Bayonetta, the fluttering hems of her dress tickling at the ankles of the PVC custom-made bodysuit. “So if you’ve been around for so long, surely you have some wisdom you could share. I think I could be appreciative.”

Again, the girl seemed to freeze for a moment before settling back into character, seemingly having been caught off guard by her initiative. “You are a _sweet_ little kitten, but you’ll have to do better than that to earn a tip, my dear.”

“You saved me from the masses. You’re clearly kind of heart.” Rachel argued, hands resting on her own hips, ignoring how much she might enjoy resting them on Bayonetta’s.

“You think you’ve got me figured out, don’t you? Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” The girl shot back with a grin, clearly not at all upset, but seemingly waiting on her for something. Whatever it was, Rachel wasn’t sure, but she was willing to take a guess or two.

“Then where would you prefer I put it?” She let out in a purr, taking great pleasure in how Bayonetta’s eyes widened, the girl’s smile brightening a mere second later.

The girl reached up to adjust her glasses and gave Rachel a long look. “You’ve certainly bloomed in these last few minutes, haven’t you, my little kitten?” Bayonetta asked, clearly rhetorically, although Rachel offered a confident grin in response. “Very well. I’m afraid I don’t have time to dance for too long...a friend is waiting for me...but I’ll make time for you, little one.”

Rachel took a step forward with her left leg, draping her dress partway across Bayonetta’s calves. “You have a captive audience.”

Bayonetta gave a low laugh and fixed Rachel with a serious stare. “Firstly...don’t fuck with a witch! Always remember that.” The girl started, counting off the bits of advice with her left hand. “Secondly, always negotiate from a position of strength, little one. Don’t just be a one-trick pony.”

“And the third?” Rachel asked quickly, reaching to graze an arm down the girl’s bicep to the edge of her gloves.

“Just behave yourself for a bit longer, I'm getting to it.” Bayonetta quipped with a wink, her smirk growing into a smile as she laughed, though after a few seconds her expression sobered. “When you love something, never lose it. Understand, little one? You must keep it safe, close to your heart.”

The unexpectedly sentimental advice caught Rachel off guard and had her taking a step back, that sensual atmosphere disrupted the slightest bit even as her heart pounded a little harder, a little faster at the romantic tint of the girl’s words. “Do you give that advice to everyone you save?”

“Come now, kitten, just the special ones. Can’t let all the girls know you’ve got a heart.” The girl answered, gaze darting off to the side, chest heaving a little heavier than before in the black bodysuit.

 _She’s...she’s nervous..._ Rachel mused with wonder, not understanding how such a beautiful person would be nervous in her presence.

“And I’m special?” Rachel asked, just seconds before her phone went off. More than a little annoyed at the distraction, she grabbed for it and checked the text from Kurt, seeing he was asking for her.

“A senshi’s duty never ceases. Being called off to your higher purpose?” Bayonetta asked, sounding a bit relieved, maybe too relieved.

Rachel returned her focus to the girl. “Not entirely. We could continue our talk...I am awaiting an answer, witch.”

The stranger laughed again, the sound once again tingling the edges of her memory, knowing she’d heard it before. “I'm not much for the talkative types. How about we have a little fun instead. You did plan on having fun with me, right? There will be plenty of time for pillow talk afterwards.”

Rachel was no prude, but the utter forwardness of the girl’s words struck her, and had her taking another step back. Which, after a moment of consideration and reflection seemed exactly what the witch had intended, Bayonetta stepping away from the railing and away from Rachel.

Which, well, had Rachel moving to intercept. “I...I do, just...not now. My friend can wait, we have time. I don’t know who you are.” She said, unsure what she was setting herself up for, but she’d liked the attention. She’d liked the compliments. She’d liked the teasing. She wanted to know who this girl was, really.

And after a few seconds of intense thought, she felt she’d entered a state of endless blushing from how utterly aroused she was by the fun ‘Bayonetta’ inquired about.

The girl just laughed again, though the momentary lip bite had her again sensing a bit of familiarity. “You’re a strong girl, Rachel. There is nothing you cannot do.” Bayonetta noted softly, moving to sidestep Rachel, but the witch inexplicably knew her from somewhere, and Rachel was determined to learn how, so she intercepted the girl and blocked her path. Which, of course, drew a sigh. “What do you need, a parting kiss or something?”

Again, it was forward, and by the tension in the girl’s body, it seemed Bayonetta expected to be rejected again. Rachel wasn’t surprised this time. This time, she nodded.

She watched a wave of panic flash across the girl’s face, followed by a twist of worry, which was then smoothed out by a purely determined expression. “So be it, kitten.”

The girl was fast, even on those massively steep heels, closing the distance in the blink of an eye and angling her chin up with a hand. Rachel hardly had time to feel discomfort at the leather before the softest lips on earth graced her own, applying the slightest pressure in a kiss so chaste that it’d be allowed in the most child-friendly of films.

But the rush of arousal, the sudden pang of yearning in her heart, the weightless feeling as the girl may as well have held her up by her chin alone by how airy and light the touch was, it all combined to have her demanding to know who the girl was. While it wasn’t her first kiss with a girl, which belonged to Quinn Fabray from when they experimented once three years prior, it was her first true kiss with a girl.

And it was like stepping from a black and white world into one full of colour, knowing with certainty that she’d been missing a big piece to her personal puzzle all along. It was that shock, that awe from revelation, that left her frozen out there on the rooftop a second or three after the witch had pulled away and sashayed off at a somewhat quick clip.

Rachel was just able to catch that alluring back, taking in the sight of the witch one last time, before the girl disappeared inside and into another crowd.

Rachel shook her phone and growled. She’d find her. One way or another she’d find her.

* * *

 

It was maddening. Weeks had passed since the convention and she’d only been able to cobble together vague recollections of what she knew to be familiar. She hadn’t taken a picture, so Rachel had been glued to social media in the weeks following the event, trawling the collections of photos for any sign of her witch.

For weeks, nothing. Nothing at all. But one Thursday, nearly two months later, she caught a break in the most unlikely of places.

Rachel had spent all year as a tutor for some of her fellow Cheerios, and she was a regular visitor to the Pierce residence to help Brittany with any of her language subjects. She’d just finished helping Britt with an essay, and was skimming through a tiny collection of photos from the con that included some or all of the witch, when her host peeked over her shoulder.

“Oooh, cool costumes. Was that the con back in March?” Britt asked, and Rachel was far too lost in recalling the finer curves of her witch to respond with more than a nod. “I was gonna take Lord Tubbington, but he slacked off and didn’t finish his Dalek costume. He didn’t want to insult the show so he stayed home, and since we were a team, I just played Dance Dance Revolution with him all day instead.”

Rachel turned her head to her friend and tried to process all of that Brittnese into English. “Do you usually go to conventions?”

“Oh, sure, I go every year to that one in Columbus, and a few smaller ones around the area too.” Brittany noted proudly, and Rachel could understand that. Dedication was an admirable trait.

“Can I ask if you recognize this girl?” She pointed to the witch in the clearest photo she’d found across the past weeks, and Britt’s initial scoff didn’t have her feeling confident in finishing her search.

“Of course. That’s Santana.” Britt noted as if it was entirely obvious, though all Rachel could do was stare at her friend, because she was drawing a complete blank at that name. Something Brittany picked up on. “Santana? Thick curly hair? Sits two back from the row closest to the door in English class? My Spanish tutor? Gosh, Rach, you should really pay attention more.”

Rachel just nodded numbly, aghast that the subject of her desires had been in her reach all along. That maybe Santana had been waiting for Rachel to approach her, and ended up disappointed when it didn’t happen. _I could have already lost my chance!_

She bolted up from her seat and grabbed Brittany by the shoulders. “Tell me about Santana.”

* * *

 

 _Just trig, study hall, and AP physics, and then it’s the weekend._ Santana mused to herself with a smile as she readjusted her glasses. _I can probably set up a Friday night Overwatch marathon with Tina...my Pharah, her D.Va, and a whole lotta mayhem..._

It was definitely something she could maybe look forward to after a long week of annoying assignments and even more annoying Cheerios and football players unleashing their anger on her. _Just because I don’t want to tutor them in Spanish, and they’re failing it because Schue can’t teach, it’s my fault?_ Santana shook her head at her luck. _Dad’s got a good job, but he’s not made of money. I can’t keep replacing my wardrobe every month, they might catch on._

Santana was just turning the corner towards her trig class when she got a faceful of blue raspberry slushie. It froze her on the spot, but thankfully, with her hood up, the damage was limited. At least, until her hood was pulled back and more slushie got poured onto her.

She went though her memory of the school’s layout, mentally navigating a path to the nearest washroom. She imagined herself as Pharah, decimating the abnormally large Missing Link population of the school with her missiles. She imagined herself as Bayonetta, performing string after string of rhythmic attacks at her aggressors. She imagined herself as Commander Santana Shepard, using the beam she destroyed a reaper with to destroy all of her enemies.

Maybe if her mom hadn’t stayed home during her younger years, she could have grown up more hardened like the kids from her abuela’s side of town, but she didn’t know how to fight, and she’d been attacked indiscriminately for the past three years. It wasn’t like she could stand up and demand change; it wasn’t as if they’d listen. To them, she was a nerd who could get them As in Spanish and the sciences if only they threatened her enough, or attacked her into submission.

Of course, the fact that she'd only ever tutored people who didn't treat her like shit, and who were willing to pay her wage or offer something in exchange, apparently didn't get through their thick Neanderthal skulls.

With an angry huff, she blindly stomped off towards the bathroom, gripping her soaking textbook that she’d amateurishly forgotten to pack away in her backpack. _Probably lost half my trig notes at best...fuck..._

Eventually, her outstretched hand made contact with the door and she found her way into the room and shoved her head under a sink. The rush of tap water wouldn’t do anything for her hair, and she sighed to herself at having to do yet another deep conditioning session to hopefully salvage her hair from the routine damage done to it. There was a reason she wore hats and kept hoodies up so often; her hair was already prone to frizz and damage, daily slushies didn’t do it any favours.

It took a little longer than usual to get herself clean, the slushie having drenches her whole head of hair on top of seeping down her neck across her chest and back in spots.  Usually all she had to do was swap her hoodie, but her top underneath was wrecked, too, meaning a full change. She’d managed to salvage her jeans, thankfully, but her hoodie and camisole were doze-worthy, and that posed a problem once she realized she’d run out of spare clothes from the gamut of attacks that day.

The sound of the door opening had Santana rushing into a stall and locking the door, annoyed at her half-dressed state and how vulnerable it made her. Anyone could wait outside and eventually she’d half to come out in only her bra and her jeans.

“Hello?” The voice froze Santana to the spot for a moment before she could scramble up onto the toilet, hiding her feet from sight. Rachel Berry could not catch her in there. “I suspect you were attacked by a slushie, by the soaked and discarded clothes...”

Santana could only facepalm at her mistake, allowing herself a sigh now that she’d been caught. Didn’t mean she had to be more vocal than that, though. Rachel’s people had done this to her, even if Rachel herself probably hadn’t ordered it.

“Do you need a change of clothes? I’m not seeing any in your bag.” Rachel asked, prompting Santana to roll her eyes at how typically nosy Berry was being. She knocked against the wall in answer. “A single knock...does that mean yes? One knock yes, two knocks no.”

Santana knocked once again, wondering what Rachel was up to. The girl hadn’t spoken to her since third grade, when Berry had gotten in with the popular crowd after befriending Brittany and Quinn, and no longer had time for some of her other friends. Not that they’d been the closest of friends, but they had played and spent time together pretty regularly from kindergarten through second grade.

Rachel went off and took gymnastics, which apparently cancelled out the unpopularity of her musical theater-related hobbies. Santana took after her father, focusing on the sciences and videogames, currently on track for pre-med once she graduated. Rachel, she imagined, would continue her focus on Broadway, using Glee as a springboard.

The sound of the door opening again, followed by pure silence, had her wondering if Rachel left. _Of course she left._ _People probably told her I got slushied and she came by to see how I took it for once. Who knows..._

Santana slumped down on the toilet and ran a hand through her wet tresses. _I mean, she avoided me, acted like I didn’t exist...for weeks after the kiss...of course she regretted it. She always did seem straight...and I’m always a little too forward and brave when I cosplay Bayonetta..._

Still, it was a memory she’d cherish. It really had been a fantastic kiss. She’d never predicted Rachel’s legs turning to jello over such a simple kiss, but it’d been pretty flattering. Also, one childhood dream to check off her list, finally.

Santana was just getting ready to leave the stall and toss her wet camisole back on and hope for the best, when the door to the washroom opened again. She listened to the dull patter of sneakers on the tile floor, the steps stilling in front of her stall a moment before she caught sight of a folded grey top being handed off from under the stall door.

More curious than anything, Santana reached down and took hold of it, flicking her hands to unfurl it. _What the..._ She mused in wonder at the sight of one of the Cheerio practice tees. One emblazoned with Rachel’s name and number. Once upon a time, she’d wondered why cheerleaders would have numbers, but apparently their tyrannical coach used it as a ranking system to inspire competition and ruthlessness.

Rachel’s big red ‘#2’ had always been a declaration of power. It felt strange to even hold the garment, let alone have it offered to her.

“It’s not anything fancy, but I don’t exactly bring a change of clothes to school outside of the ones I use for some practices, so it was all I could get a hold of in short notice. I hope it’s okay.” Rachel rambled with a strange nervousness that was rare for the girl. Rachel was always so self-assured and confident and unapologetic. Santana had chalked up the girl’s behaviour at the convention to a mix of culture shock and curiosity, so it didn’t make sense for some of that to filter into her own stomping grounds.

“It’s yours.” Santana let out quietly, unsure what to think about the offering quite yet. It was more than a spare tee, it was a political statement ready to be made the moment she stepped out into the halls with it. That required consideration.

“Well...yes. It’s mine. I’m offering it to you to wear, since you don’t have anything else to wear.” Rachel babbled again, sounding more baffled than uncertain, which had Santana thinking Rachel hadn’t taken time to think about what she was actually doing.

“No, it’s...it’s yours. This represents you.” Santana started, rolling her eyes at Rachel’s frustrated huff.

“It’s a t-shirt.” Rachel insisted, words edged in annoyance. “I’m just trying to help.”

Santana shook her head at Berry’s obtuseness; Rachel was a smart girl, she shouldn’t have to be doing the thinking for both of them. “It’s more than a t-shirt. Freshman year, Georgia Haynes gave her best friend one of these. Her best friend who was literally public enemy number one among the football team for going public with her assault and getting the quarterback expelled.”

It only took two seconds for the cheerleader to catch on. “She became untouchable.”

“Only wore the shirt for half a day, and everyone knew what it meant. It was Georgia’s shirt, she was...fourth or fifth ranked? And she effectively claimed her best friend as hers. Her responsibility. Basically her property.” Santana explained patiently, wanting Rachel to know exactly what she was offering with the t-shirt. “Pretty sure it only works if you’re high-ranking, which you are. If I put this on, even if I hate the politics around it, I’d be effectively yours in everyone’s eyes. You’d be claiming me. And since I haven’t been your friend in years and years...”

“We were friends?” Rachel interjected, before letting out a gasp. “Oh my Barbra, we were, weren’t we?! You loved the sandbox and the teeter-totters, and I’d play with you.”

“Yeah, we did. But as I was saying, because we haven’t been friends, you suddenly claiming me out of the blue? The _only_ out lesbian in school? What conclusion do you think people will come to?” Santana asked, throwing the meat of the issue right out in the open for the other girl to think about. “Think about how this would change how you’re treated around school, how you’re seen and treated in your squad. You know this place is full of evangelicals, and LGBT kids get shit on ruthlessly here. What if you lose your rank and fall out of favor? It’d have been for nothing, and we’d both end up hurting. I can take spending the rest of the day in a soggy cami. I’ve got a weekend to shake it off and regroup. All the teasing you faced way back when about your gay dads would come roaring back, and you deserve better than that.”

Santana felt herself blush at the bit of over sharing at the end there, and listened to herself catch her breath as she waited for the cheerleader’s response. 

“I think you’ve forgotten who I am. Or did you not once refer to me as the Guardian of Protection?” Rachel asked, the sudden reminder of that day on the rooftop pulling a laugh from Santana’s throat. “At least I finally got my answer, though...I’m one of the special ones to know your heart, it seems. Why else would you be so concerned about me?”

Santana let out another laugh and leaned back against the water tank. “Rachel...”

“Quinn knows I’m bi, same with most of the squad and the coach. I’m not worried about them. So the real question is whether you’re comfortable letting your kitten protect you. I’m okay with all the things 'claiming' you would insinuate about me...but this is your decision. I understand that 'claiming' you as mine is not anything I could do without your explicitly enthusiastic consent to whatever degree you desire.” Rachel rambled again, sounding a bit more nervous near the end, words a little shakier, but the message was clear.

Rachel didn’t care what others thought. Rachel cared about her and was stepping up. Rachel wanted Santana to be hers in whatever way she would allow.

It didn’t really make much sense, they barely knew each other, but Santana wouldn’t lie and say there wasn’t a connection that day on the roof. Hoping her decision wouldn’t blow up in her face, she slipped on the tee and got off the toilet, hand hovering above the latch for a moment as she really ensured this was what she wanted.

With a steadying breath, she slid the latch to the side and pulled open the door, teeth quickly finding her lip as she used her hand to sweep away her wet hair from her face, knowing she looked horrible in comparison to Rachel’s perfectly fitted cheerio uniform and perfectly set high-pony, and her perfect, simple make-up. Suddenly, her insecurities came roaring back, forcing her right leg to step back into the stall.

She felt a hand on her wrist before she could process her desire to lock herself back in, the diva’s gentle tugging leading her out and away from the stall. “You have nothing to be scared of, Santana.”

The sound of her name escaping Rachel’s lips drew all of her attention, taking a moment to process how sweet it sounded coming from her, how the diva spoke it with such care. It was a sound she wasn’t sure she’d get tired of, even if she probably wouldn’t tell Rachel that.

She watched Rachel dip a bit and grab a towel she must have brought with her as well, thankfully a microfiber one. “Can I dry your hair, Santana?” Rachel asked quietly, and all she could do was nod, because Berry was standing so close to her, and wanted to touch her, and spoke her name yet again? How could she possibly refuse?

Rachel got to work quickly, but handled her tresses with care, humming some tune or another as she went about drying Santana off. The diva was handling a few locks at the side of her head when she felt Rachel gently pull them to the side, and then the soft press of lips right below her ear.

Santana couldn’t help but gasp at the sensation. “Rachel...”

“Sorry. You’re just...it took me so long to figure out who you were, and I’ve been agonizing over it for weeks, and I finally caught a break, and I just...” Rachel rambled, voice trailing off before the girl took in a shaky breath. “Being close to you is just very, very exciting.”

“Wait...” Santana blurted out, sending the diva a disbelieving stare. “You didn’t know who I was at the con? At all?”

Rachel shook her head. “Not a clue. I just thought you were very charismatic and quite witty and pretty, and that you were a fantastic kisser. A few things seemed familiar, so I tried to pinpoint them, but couldn’t figure you out until Brittany pointed you out. I know it’s a little silly, but the hair, the different glasses, the lack of a beauty mark, the different voice, the hoodies instead of bodysuits, sneakers instead of heels, the makeup you wore compared to you going without here at school...it made it hard for me to tell, since I’m already sort of bad with names and faces.”

Santana let out a laugh and took the towel from Rachel’s hands, finishing it all off herself. “I just thought you were ignoring me.” She said with a shrug, fighting a wince at Rachel’s immediate gasp. “I know the truth now, but...we’d shared classes for years, and even had a project together last semester. I think it’s pretty fair that I thought what I thought.”

“Well, can I make it up to you, tonight?” Rachel asked, freezing Santana to the spot, eyes widening from the insinuation. Something Rachel seemed to catch onto. “Not...not sex, just...I want to catch up. I want to know you better. And...and maybe...if you’re open to it...perhaps we could discuss me taking you out on a date?”

Santana scanned Rachel’s face for any trace of insincerity and found none. For years, she’d held her crush on Rachel. For weeks, she’d succumbed to the notion that Rachel wasn’t into her in return after the con. Yet, there the diva was, basically asking to date her.

Such a strange change of fates.

“Yeah, I’m all yours.” She noted with a shy smile, feeling the words were pretty appropriate for how she’d felt for such a long time, and how willing she was to commit herself to the chance of them working a relationship out.

Rachel’s brilliant smile had her feeling that the massive gap in popularity wouldn’t be a problem, so long as the diva kept looking at her with such adoration.

Maybe Overwatch could wait. Pharah would understand.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to both Bayonetta games for Santana's dialogue in the first section, and the first Bayonetta for the costume inspiration. Yes, she's a big enough nerd about Bayonetta to have the dialogue memorized...I headcanon she plays it when she's frustrated with the church, her abuela, and all the sanctimonious people at school using religion as a weapon against her.
> 
> Much like the College/Uni AU prompt, I wasn't really feeling this one, but I tried my best to make it work, and I already had something halfway outlined to use as a starting point, so I figured 'why not'? Santana as an action-game loving science nerd seemed like a way for her to retain her trademark temper/fury while adapting her to a new background.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


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